


Dreading Bells

by whovianmuse



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianmuse/pseuds/whovianmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It would always be like this. This confusion, this tension; consuming them both, digging at their hearts, and testing their restraint. Mick would swallow his unexplored feelings along with his pride, terribly stubborn and unbelievably loyal to the woman who held only half of his heart. Josef would leave for Los Angeles the next morning, taking the other half with him, and masking his feelings with sarcasm and cynicism. But over the years, over the centuries, encompassing their entire existence as immortal beings, and no matter what distance came between them, their feelings would remain, connecting them by an impenetrable heartstring.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreading Bells

White magnolias hung from crevices along the high ceiling in the old, cracked stone of the cathedral’s wedding hall. Baby’s breath weaved in and out of the bridesmaids’ hair: twisted, curled, flattened, and tousled. The five young girls traipsed carelessly throughout the aisles, red heels clicking along the hardwood floor, glasses of champagne held high in their manicured hands. Their dresses were the color of fine French wine; elegant and flowing to their ankles like scarlet waterfalls. Mick St. John couldn’t help but find the sight entrancing, but certainly not because of the women. He was under the impression that pigeons could hold a better conversation.

These girls were childish, empty-headed mannequins, untainted and unburdened by pain and longing that they would never, in the entirety of their insignificant mortal lives, understand. They had no idea. Mick almost envied them for their ignorance. Shaking his head in frustration, he continued to distract himself with miniscule details of the wedding hall’s décor.

Twelve rows of booths ranged like teeth in the expansive church room, the red velvet carpet rolled out over the hardwood floor like a big, red tongue. The entire room, with its guests filing in from their respective bedrooms, fidgeting in their seats, filling the silence with distasteful babble, and occasionally glaring at Mick, was waiting to swallow him whole. He was sweating. There was no chance that the setting sun could reach him from where he stood at the altar, and Mick was sweating. 

_Nerves. Of course I’m nervous._ He bit back a memory at what his first wedding had been like, trying to reassure himself that tonight couldn’t possibly be any worse than his wedding night with his ex-wife, Coraline, when he’d first discovered what she was. Beth was different. For one thing, she wasn’t a vampire. Not yet, anyway. Their agreement, after many long, agonizing discussions, was that Mick was supposed to turn her. Tonight. It seemed oddly familiar, and horribly ironic that his second wedding night would parallel his first, except reversed, and devoid of the same shock and horror. At least Beth would know what was coming. She wanted it, and Mick was growing tired of denying her. But ever since he had agreed, an internal battle had raged war on his mind.

             _This is wrong. She doesn’t deserve to become a monster. You’re taking her life, sealing her fate in the worst way imaginable,_ the logical side of his brain that argued morals and scruples would scold. But then the other side, the slightly selfish, emotionally overworked, detail dissecting side of his brain would chime in.  _Mick, you’re being stupid. Just get it over with. You’re in love with her. This is your wedding, stop sulking. It’s pathetic. What, you’re going to marry Beth and then let her age, while you perpetually remain thirty?_

            He wasn’t entirely sure which side would count as the angel and the devil, but he was fairly certain that he hated both of them, and had the overwhelming desire to chuck the nonexistent bastards off of his shoulders. It had been like this for weeks, and of course it came full fledged on the day he was meant to do it. He wanted to cry out in frustration, to bang his head against the old stone wall repeatedly until the torturous and confusing conversations in his mind ceased.

_Yeah, because hearing voices on your head isn’t a sign of insanity or anything,_ he chuckled darkly. At least he wasn’t talking to pigeons.

            He almost wished that he had met someone else, someone who was already a vampire, just so he wouldn’t have to put Beth through that pain. The transformation itself, and then the hiding, the scrounging, the bloodlust, losing everything and everyone she once loved. Mick remembered it well, and it would absolutely kill him to have to subject her to that. But Beth had reassured him countless times that she wanted this, and decent female vamps were hard to find anyway. They were either arrogant and high-maintenance, or complete lunatics, like his ex-wife. In fact, there was only one vampire that he could tolerate on a daily basis. And that vampire had survived four hundred years of this existence without letting it go to his head. Mostly.  _Speaking of whom…_

Mick began searching the crowd for the one person who always knew how to calm him down. He’d be easy enough to spot. Just look for the youngest, and most attractive of Beth’s cousins, and you’ll find Josef, turning on the charm. But everywhere his eyes roamed, even after he’d given up being discreet about it, he couldn’t find Josef. Even more disappointing was that he wasn’t up front, standing next to Mick, giving him advice and cracking sarcastic jokes to quell his nerves, like he was supposed to be. What was the point in having a best man if you couldn’t locate him an hour before the wedding was meant to start?

The sun was pouring through the gigantic stained glass rose window over the mouth of the aisle like a blood orange, bathing the wedding hall in bright gold and scarlet, and making the cramped, raucous room uncomfortably warm. After ten minutes of internal debate, Mick decided that he needed to get out of there, at least for a little while. He needed to clear his head, and he couldn’t manage the task with all of Beth’s relatives constantly staring him down. Not to mention, he had a killer hangover from his bachelor party the night before.

             _Vodka fucking sucks_ , Mick thought bitterly as he made his way down the aisle and out into the reception hall. He breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air cascaded over his face, and the cacophony of conversations was drowned out by the rattling air conditioner above. It  _is_  possible for vampires to get drunk, just not very common. Given the choice, most vampires would prefer blood to a Bloody Mary. Vampires have a much higher tolerance for alcohol than humans do, and so Mick had downed about twenty shots of Smirnoff before he even felt buzzed. He hadn’t wanted to go out and celebrate in the first place, but Josef had eventually coaxed him into going to an obscure strip club in London.  _The Modern Rouge_ , an obvious rip-off of the French original, was a smoky little place with a small stage where young, impressionable girls dressed like harlots and harlequins coiled themselves around poles, shoving obviously fake breasts in the faces of acne-ridden adolescents and lonely alcoholics.

            By the time Mick was forty shots in, and the bartender was eyeing him up both impressed and worried for his health and sanity, Josef had another surprise for him. Snapping his fingers like an impatient director, he called over one of the girls they’d seen dancing on the stage earlier in the night. She had on the tightest bright red corset that Mick had ever seen. Black fishnet tights spider-webbed up her long legs, blonde hair done up in pigtails. She had the complexion of an orange that had laid out in the sun longer than was necessary. Josef smiled at Mick, eyeing up the strumpet and licking his lips.

            “Treat him well, Colleen.” Josef smirked, gesturing at Mick’s lap.

            “Oh, no, really, that’s okay,” Mick said hastily, his eyes averted, concentrating on collecting the salt from Josef’s margarita on his fingertips. The small, chipped wooden table between them was scattered with empty martini glasses, decorated shot glasses, and drained cups of Sex On The Beach. He was definitely starting to feel it. The dizziness, the swaying, the stupidity. He was even starting to forget what Beth looked like. This had to stop.

            “Mick, come on. Your last night as a free vamp — I mean, man. You’re going to deny this woman the pleasure of your last night as a bachelor?” Josef pouted, pretending to look offended.

            “Josef, no. That’s enough,” Mick said firmly, slurring the last few words as his vision swerved. Josef rolled his eyes and looked up apologetically at the girl called Colleen.

            “Sorry, love. But save me some for later.” He squeezed her waist before he let her go, making her giggle uncontrollably. He turned to face Mick, a smirk poised on his lips.

            “Drink?” Josef asked, his eyebrows arched. Mick nodded vigorously, understanding that Josef referred to a very different, and infinitely lovelier type of drink than the ones they had been consuming all night. One that was definitely not served in the local bars. At least, not legally.

            Shaking off blurred memories of the night before, Mick stared at the vast reception hall, deciding which corridor he wanted to take. During his stay at the cathedral, he had explored as much of the inside as he could, fascinated by its age, by the history it must hold. After all, he couldn’t exactly go outside. The sun was brighter than usual today, reflecting off the freshly fallen December snow, hammering in through the stained glass windows of the corridors, glaring at Mick as he tried to dodge it behind corners and down dark passageways, like a twisted game of hide and seek.

            Still, despite his pounding headache and miserable disposition, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it was on the inside. It was built differently than other European cathedrals, and perhaps that was why Mick appreciated it. Unique in its features, this particular cathedral contained the wedding hall, several other ceremonial halls, and three additional floors acting as a monastery, all in one colossal cathedral, rather than among separate buildings. And Josef had reserved not just the wedding hall, but also the entire cathedral.

It was easy enough for him, as were most of his conquests, given that he was one of the most powerful men in Los Angeles, and wealthy beyond belief. It was sentimental to Josef; his parents had been married in this church, back when it was first built in the 1600’s. He had even attended masses here. That was, of course, before he became a vampire, back when he was a good little boy living in England with his mummy and daddy. It was no surprise that he wanted his best friend to get married in a place that held so much meaning, considering that it was very unlikely that the constantly-single man-whore Josef Kostan would be getting down on one knee any time soon.

            Mick wandered the dark hallways, dimly lit by flickering candles, through ancient wooden doors with huge, rusting metal knockers that lead into bedchambers, having once belonged to the sisters of the convent, and that now housed several of the wedding guests. He became lost in corridors and up winding stairways that felt like they were stolen from a castle in a fairytale.  _That’s kind of what Beth and I are_ , he mused.  _A strange, warped fairytale, where she’s the princess and I’m the monster._

            His hands started to shake again, and though he tried to shrug off the nervousness, and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what he’d promised to do tonight, he couldn’t. He tried to steady his mind, to think about anything else but the thought of turning Beth. And oddly enough, it worked, though not in the way he’d expected. Images flashed across his mind. The first time they met, the first time they shared drinks and stories of their lives before they’d been turned. The first time they got so drunk and ended up on Mick’s rooftop, back in Los Angeles, spilling every secret that had ever caused them pain. The first moment they realized that they could trust one another completely. All of his fears, his worries, and his issues with trust dissipating at the fact that there was one person out there on whom he could thoroughly rely.

And after tonight, after Beth quit Buzzwire, Mick retired from his life as a private investigator, and they moved to the quiet, modest cottage that Beth had chosen in Stratford-Upon-Avon, Mick would scarcely be able to see him. And he hated how much that tore him apart. At first, it didn’t register in his mind where his wandering had led him, and whose bedroom he now stood just feet from. As though he had sensed that Mick was out here, lurking in the dark corridor thinking about him, there he was, rounding the corner and whistling a cheerful theme to a show that he probably imagined he was the star of.

            “Mick,” he stuttered, coming to a halt, and looking completely caught off guard.

            “Josef. I…I took a walk to—” he started.

            “Clear your head. Yeah, I figured.”

Josef knew. He always knew.

“Actually, I was sort of looking for you. I was downstairs, and you were—”

“Up here. Strolling,” he said simply.

“Yeah, well, I was worried that you weren’t—”

“Coming? Come on, Mick, give me a little credit. You think  _I’m_  the flight risk?”

Josef chuckled, taking in Mick’s anguished expression.

            “Need to talk?” Josef quirked an eyebrow and his smile faded. He placed his arm around Mick and led him through the large wooden door at the end of the hallway. The room was lit up with a string of red paper lanterns dangling from the ceiling, the only source of light besides the shadow of the setting sun in the stained glass window. A vast wardrobe stood in the corner by the window, and a gigantic four-poster bed sat untouched against the wall closest to the door. Its companion was a stainless steel freezer, laid open, swirls of icy current circling above it like smoke. Josef strolled across the hardwood floor and promptly shut the lid of his bed, cursing lightly as he did so for having left it open. Being in Josef’s room again felt just as comfortable and inviting as it had the night before.

            After Mick and Josef left The Modern Rouge, they had traveled through the heart of the bright and busy city, homesick for Los Angeles. Josef had swiped a bottle of whiskey from the bar, and was taking hearty gulps, swaying about in the streets, singing “Fly Me To The Moon,” and trying to convince Mick that he’d thought of the lyrics before Frank had. Mick merely chuckled and shook his head, wrapping his leather jacket tightly around his shoulders and frowning at the thought of never hearing Josef’s atrocious singing voice again. At least, not as much. They’d promised to visit one another as often as they could, but Mick knew that was unlikely. He would be occupied with taming a very feral Beth through her first years as a newborn vampire, and Josef was a busy man.

            Somehow, they made it back to the church, and up three flights of stairs to Josef’s bedchamber. There, they split tall glasses of Scotch, followed by chasers of O and A positive, from the large stock Josef had packed for the weekend. The night became increasingly more difficult to remember. All Mick could recall with certainty was laughing his ass off with Josef, arguing over the differences between blondes and gingers, and making fun of pop culture’s ridiculous images of vampires over the decades. Dracula was mind-numbingly dull (Josef had met him, after all,) Buffy was an uptight bitch who couldn’t see that Spike clearly loved her, and Twilight…well, they certainly had a laugh over those sparkly little buggers.

They ended up laying on the soft silken comforter of Josef’s bed, heads and hands touching occasionally, bursts of laughter punctuated with contended sighs, reminiscing in all of their misadventures over the past fifty years. At around 5 a.m., Josef had half-walked, half-carried Mick back to his bedroom on the second floor, propping him up against the door, and wishing him good luck. For a few moments, they just stared at each other, Josef still giggling, and Mick falling asleep, slumping to his knees in the corridor. Josef placed a soft kiss on Mick’s forehead, whispering, “Please, don’t leave,” before retreating to his own bedroom, watching as Mick turned the knob, and entered his bedroom to fall asleep next to his fiancée. This, however, Mick did not remember in the slightest.

“Hung over?” Josef asked, smirking at Mick’s sleepy expression.

            “Unless jackhammers have taken residence in my head, yes.” He rubbed his forehead gingerly.

            “Yeah, me too… Whiskey?” Josef laughed, already pouring himself a glass.

            “Yeah, alright.” Mick took the full glass from Josef’s hands and sipped it lightly, distracted. Josef took his own glass, walked over to the bed and sat down, one arm outstretched, supporting his weight. He waved his glass in Mick’s direction, and motioned for him to speak.

             “I know you need to rant. So, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be over here, pretending to listen.”

            Mick laughed, sighed heavily, and placed his whiskey on the floor. He began pacing, the glow of the sunset following him, casting his shadow like a silent monster behind him, and blurted out the thoughts that were gaining too much weight to fit into the crammed confines of his brain.

            “Josef, I’m such an idiot. How can I marry her? Our kinds just don’t mix. I know. I know. You can have your little freshies every once in a while, and that’s fine. But that’s not me and…she wants me to turn her. Tonight. How can I even begin to…I have no idea how to…and I’m not sure if I even want to. Not because I don’t love her. I do. I mean…no, I do. I love her. And of course I want to spend the rest of my life with her. But it totally fucking parallels my wedding night. It’s been bringing back those horrible memories ever since I first agreed to it. And I can’t, Josef, I just can’t…”

            Mick collapsed to the floor, scraping his back along the hard, stone wall near the door of Josef’s bedroom, tears trailing softly down his face. He hadn’t even realized he’d started crying until he felt the tears splash down onto his black dress jacket. Josef crouched down beside him, draping his arms around Mick’s shoulders and holding him close.

            “Mick, you’ll be fine. You’ll get through this,” Josef reassured. Wrapped up in Josef’s arms, Mick felt himself calming down. He nodded slowly, and made to get up from the floor, but Josef didn’t let go. Instead, he took Mick’s chin in his hands, gently, and lifted it up so that they were looking directly into one another’s eyes. The sudden closeness of their faces made Mick feel uneasy, but he didn’t pull away. He just continued to stare into his brilliant, calming hazel eyes. Comfortable, like caramel swirled into coffee. Classic, like fine-aged cognac. He even smelled comfortable, and Mick felt an odd, overwhelming desire to pull Josef’s face closer to his own. Mick tried not to linger on that thought, because truthfully, it didn’t scare him as much as it probably should have.

            After a few moments, Mick shook his head, prying his eyes away from Josef’s. He remained where he was, placing his head in his palms, occasionally running his fingers through his tangled, wavy brown hair. Josef eased himself up off the ground, and began pacing the length of his room, just as Mick had earlier. He knit his brows together, and tapped a finger lightly on his chin. Suddenly, he turned to face Mick, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“If it’s the turning you’re worried about, that’s easy. That is, if you actually want to succeed.” Josef smirked. Mick shot him daggers, wiping the smile off of Josef’s perfect pale face.

            “Kidding. You know that. I’m just saying, man, eternity is a long time to spend with one person. Unless, of course, you spend it with the right person.”

He stopped pacing for a moment, and seemed to wait for a response, but Mick just shook his head, a sorrowful expression on his face. The faster his thoughts swirled, the harder his head pounded. He sank into reverie, replaying past conversations, painful memories, and difficult decisions that, it seemed, held no right answer.  _It’s time you stopped hating what you are,_ Josef’s voice chimed in his head. It was ironic that the side of his brain that encouraged Mick to turn Beth sounded an awful lot like Josef’s voice, given that he was so against the idea of humans and vampires falling in love. But maybe it was just because he was so used to Josef’s playful jabs at Mick’s stubborn reluctance.

Josef typically held the answers. He was rarely wrong when it came to logic and reason, not that Mick would ever admit that. No need to feed Josef’s overgrown ego. But maybe he was right. It had been thirty years since he’d finally let Coraline go. Yes, she’d turned him on their wedding night, and yes, she’d strung him along several times, only to cut him short and leave him to cope with his unwanted immortality alone. But she was nothing like Beth. Adorable, beautiful, confident Beth, who loved him unconditionally, even though he was a monster. Of course he wanted to spend the rest his existence with her. Mick snapped his head up in Josef’s direction, his mind made up.

“How do you turn someone?” he asked. Josef paused, choking on the large sip of whiskey he’d taken, his eyes wide.

“What?” he sputtered.

“I need you to tell me how to turn Beth,” he said slowly, measuring Josef’s expression. He knew that this was a touchy subject for Josef, given that his first attempt had rendered his past love, Sarah Whitley, unconscious, but Mick had to try. After all, his second attempt had worked perfectly. Mick was living…well, un-living proof of that. Josef blinked a few times before he regained his composure, swishing the remnants of whiskey in his glass, before downing it completely.

            “Are you sure this is what you want?” Josef asked, placing the empty glass on a table in the far corner. Mick stared at him for a moment, his thoughts racing, making his head spin. But finally, he nodded. He had made a promise, and he was determined to keep it.

            “Look, Mick, it’s not an exact science, okay? And I’m not the most experienced vamp—”

            “Josef. You’re the only one I know with experience in turning. I promised her I’d do this for her, tonight. I can’t risk losing her.” Mick’s expression was solemn.

            “Alright. Alright, fine. If this is really what you want. But remember, after you turn her, you’re stuck with her. Unless you’ve got a flamethrower.” He chuckled. Mick rolled his eyes impatiently.

“Oh, come on, Mick, grow a sense of humor. I get it. You’re in  _love_. People in love do stupid things, like get married.” He eyed Mick up, smirking, and then added, “Weren’t you the one who proposed, anyway? I haven’t seen you this uptight since you dragged me along to choose the ring.”

Mick just closed his eyes, his expression pained. Josef lost his smile and resumed pacing.

            “Well, to turn someone who’s actually willing is simple. You find the place on their body that’s most vulnerable. Typically that’s the neck, along the side where that big artery we love so much is. You’ll be able to tell. The smell will just…anyway, sorry. Vampire bloodlust, rah rah rah. Anyway, you bite carefully. Try not to hurt her too much. I know you like it rough. And carefully, drain her body of at least half her blood. It’s important not to drain all of it, but enough so that she’s near death. Then, make an incision in your skin, preferably forearm, and feed her some of your blood. It’s like you’re mixing both of your essences together, creating a bond between sire and newly-turned vampire.”

He halted and turned to face Mick. Josef’s eyes bore into his with such intensity that it made Mick smile. He remembered the process vaguely, having once asked Josef to re-turn him, several years ago, when he had sacrificed the temporary mortal cure in order to save Beth’s life. It was amusing that Josef described anything, let alone the turning process, with so much passion.

“Josef Kostan, you romantic. You make it sound almost intimate.” Mick laughed.

            “It _is_ intimate, Mick,” Josef nearly whispered, keeping his eyes averted. He cleared his throat then, and started pacing again. This stop-and-go Josef was getting quite distracting.

            “So, um, yes, that’s how you turn someone.” He had the strangest expression on his face, and Mick couldn’t quite place what it was.  But he didn’t have time to decipher Josef’s mood swings.

            “Show me,” Mick said, rising to his feet, finishing his glass and placing it on the table next to Josef’s. A simple explanation wasn’t enough for him. He was still afraid that he would mess up, and he couldn’t risk Beth’s life, dangling her existence between the very fine line of eternity and death. He needed to feel confident, and sure of what he was doing, before he took such a risk. Josef had stopped mid-stride, looking thoroughly annoyed.

            “I already told you how to—”

            “I know. But I need you to show me. I’m scared, okay? I need your help,” he pleaded.

            With a frustrated sigh, Josef walked over to where Mick stood in the center of the room.

            “Well, as I said, you grab hold of her, like this.” Josef took Mick’s shoulders, a little more roughly than was entirely necessary, and pulled him into his chest.

            “And then you, well…you just find the vein I’m referring to.”

            “Which is  _where_?” Mick asked, growing impatient with Josef’s odd reluctance.

            “For fuck’s sake, Mick, do I have to show you everything?” Josef huffed, and ran one of his hands through his short, dark blond hair. He wrapped his arms around Mick’s shoulders, and leaned slowly into his neck, easily finding the place he’d described. Mick’s memories of the time that Josef had turned him flooded his mind, like a forgotten dream. The last time was urgent, filled with anxiety, as Beth’s safety had depended on the outcome. This time, it was slower, more precise, just how Mick promised himself he’d do it for Beth. But…this  _felt_ different. Josef’s lips parted, his warm breath tickling the tiny hairs on Mick’s neck.

His body tensed slightly, as Josef’s mouth trailed along the side of his neck, his fangs prodding into Mick’s skin, but never piercing him. Mick noticed Josef’s scent again, stronger this time. He smelled like cigar smoke and cognac, but there was something deeper to it, something more than just the familiar, inviting scent that always lingered on his expensive jackets after nights spent together in his apartment. Josef’s neck and his shoulders and his chest smelled just like his embrace felt — warm, and comfortable; a dark sweetness that Mick had the extreme desire to melt into. He smelled like  _home_.

Without thinking, Mick placed his lips on Josef’s neck too, needing to bring the warmth and comfort closer, the kind that Beth could never completely satisfy him with. Josef shuddered softly as Mick slid his lips to the top of Josef’s neck, breathing in the smell of his hair, shuddering with longing at the taste of Josef’s skin on his lips. He allowed his own fangs to slide down, nibbling softly on Josef’s neck. His hands found their way into Mick’s hair, fingers tangling into the disheveled strands. His breathing quickened, as he brushed his lips along the side of Mick’s neck, teeth softly biting along his resilient skin. A shudder ran down Mick’s spine at Josef’s touch, like ice had been dragged the length of his back. Mick felt a moan escape his lips, and then quickly suppressed it, hoping Josef hadn’t heard.

And suddenly he could no longer taste Josef’s neck, but Josef’s lips against his own, forceful and rough and powerful but sweet and entrancing and gentle all at the same time. His thoughts pulled away from Beth completely, and the idea of her existence disappeared as he sank into the kiss, needing to deepen it, needing the warmth and the comfort he so desperately sought in the man he’d known for nearly fifty years. It felt like everything, every memory they shared, every night they’d spent in close companionship, every secret and regret, was poured into that kiss. He didn’t understand this jolt he’d felt the moment Josef had touched him, like fire had been injected into his veins. He was too far-gone to think about what he was doing, or why he was doing it, anymore. All he knew was that Josef was the source of his comfort.

In this moment, his heart pumped for Josef. His breathing quickened at Josef’s touch. His happiness was the result of Josef. He wanted to grab him by the front of his black jacket, rip off his blood-red button up shirt that constricted his chest and push him up against the wall, pressing his body against Josef’s completely. He wanted to kiss him like he’d never kissed Beth, because he could be rougher with Josef, if he wanted to. And yet, all at the same time, he wanted to get the hell out of there. To hide from Josef and these strange, all-encompassing new feelings, from Beth and her desires, from this whole fucking wedding chapel that had insane, wrong, and terrible carved into its walls, invisible to everyone but him.

            Overwhelmed, he pulled away from Josef, pushing him away from his chest. He was shaking slightly, out of breath, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could comprehend what had just happened. He slowly lifted his head to meet Josef’s eyes. They held more than their usual vibrant exuberance, but Mick couldn’t quite place what it was. Sadness. Confusion. Desire. Lust. Love. Pain. Resentment? His head was spinning with questions, mostly rhetorical, and once again he felt the fleeting annoyance that, even in his own head, he didn’t have the appropriate space and silence to think properly, without the war raging once again.

             _What the fuck just happened?_

Mick ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, thoroughly frustrated.

_Wrong. Sick. Twisted. Weird. He’s your best friend. YOUR BEST FRIEND. How could you have let this happen? And to Beth. To sweet, wonderful, adorable Beth. Ethereal angel, dressed in a wedding gown, waiting for you at the altar. You’re a monster. A cheat. A scoundrel. A liar. Pathetic._

Insults that he knew he deserved pounded through his mind, verbal abuse felt like redemption. But then, another voice spoke up. He could almost feel the heat of the little devil skulking on his shoulder. It taunted him. Figments of his imagination never felt more real.

_Your fault? Of course this isn’t your fault. Josef attacked_  you.  _You’re the victim. And Beth is entirely too demanding. She never gave you the freedom you deserve. You know it makes you angry, but you never let it show. Mick St. John, the doormat, the carpet. Let them walk all over you…_

Mick grinded his teeth and felt his fingers clench into fists. He took several steps away from Josef, as though he was contaminated. He allowed the anger to surge through him, fabricating lies and excuses. Anger at Beth for asking him to turn her into a vampire when she knew how much that hurt him, and for making him move from the place that had been his home for more than eighty years.

Anger at Josef for forcing him to spend all of last night out, resulting in a horrendous hangover. Anger at his soft lingering lips, at his gentle hands, his stupid smirk, and his calming hazel eyes. He wanted to hate Josef for making him feel this way. For allowing Mick to fuck up so completely that he very nearly damaged their friendship, his only source of comfort anymore, and his relationship with Beth. Mick stared at him, almost glaring, letting anger and resentment consume him, blaming Josef for his inability to comprehend these foreign feelings. Josef recoiled, his eyes wide and questioning, his mouth twitching into a frown. His sorrowful eyes never left Mick’s cold glare.

            Mick’s expression softened immediately. He felt all of the anger pour out of him, replaced with an extreme guilt that made him want to run to Josef, to hold him and protect him and kiss every inch of his face until he was sure that Josef’s pain had gone. But instead, Mick remained right where he was, and the two men stood there, staring at one another for what felt like ages. Neither one moving, nor blinking, as the sun faded, sinking below the stained glass, and leaving the glow of the red paper lanterns dangling above. Josef was first to break the silence.

            “Mick,” he whispered, barely audible. “Have you ever considered the idea that maybe Beth isn’t the one you’re supposed to be with?”

            Mick opened his mouth…once, twice, three times…but words never came. He shook his head, wove his fingers through his hair, and stared at Josef, completely dumbfounded. Josef closed the space between them, grabbing the front of Mick’s black jacket and button-up shirt, and pressed his body into Mick’s, sliding smoothly against him, black pinstripe mating with black pinstripe. Mick grasped his best man in his arms, burying his face deep into Josef’s neck, consuming his scent, reveling in it for the last time. Josef let out a sigh, and nuzzled into Mick’s shoulder. Mick gripped him impossibly tighter, afraid that if he let go, Josef would twist into smoke, leaving him with nothing but incoherent memories and painful longing. It should have been simple. It should have been easy.

             Josef closed his eyes, and let out a sad chuckle, his lips forcing a smile that looked about as genuine as a grimace. Mick brushed the side of Josef’s cheek with the back of his hand, and Josef leaned his head into the caress. He stopped suddenly, removing Mick’s hand from his cheek, and held it briefly in his own.

            “Your fiancée is waiting,” Josef whispered, eyes still closed. Mick opened his mouth slightly, willing the right words to come to his lips. He sighed heavily, shook his head sadly, completely lost and confused. There was nothing more that could be said, or done. Their choices, pre-set and promised, and their willingness to forget whatever had just happened between them, sealed their very separate futures. Mick couldn’t be sure if Josef had even felt anything at all, or if it was simply his hopeful imagination. Josef was about as difficult to read as the scrolls of a dead language, and even more difficult to decipher.

Mick had obligations, like a very real and tangible bride whom he had promised his heart to. His mind was entirely too logical, frightened of emotional attachment, and blatantly ignored obvious feelings whenever it saw fit to protect Mick from further pain. The idea of putting all of his trust into something so new and fragile was frightening. And the idea of losing Josef was unbearable. But he couldn’t ignore the painful tugging in his chest, willing to pull him closer to—

             _Josef._

After several moments, Mick nodded, smiling sadly as he did so, and reached up to place a soft kiss on the top of Josef’s forehead. He ran his fingers along the edge of Josef’s jacket, smoothing out imaginary ruffles and straightening his black silk tie. He began making his way to the bedroom door, catching a glimpse of Josef before he turned the knob, his smile faltering, and his eyes questioning. Josef looked up from where he stood in the center of the room, hands shoved ungracefully into his pockets, so that he looked like a misbehaved schoolboy.

“You go. I’ll be down in a bit,” Josef said, a grimace tugging at his lips. Mick let out a small sigh, nodded, and tore his eyes away from his best friend. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. He reached the door, slowing his steps in case Josef decided to change his mind. But he remained where he was, his back turned to Mick, another full glass of amber Scotch in his hands, staring out through the stained glass window where the sun had just set beneath the horizon.

It would always be like this. This confusion, this tension; consuming them both, digging at their hearts, and testing their restraint. Mick would swallow his unexplored feelings along with his pride, terribly stubborn and unbelievably loyal to the woman who held only half of his heart. Josef would leave for Los Angeles the next morning, taking the other half with him, and masking his feelings with sarcasm and cynicism. But over the years, over the centuries, encompassing their entire existence as immortal beings, and no matter what distance came between them, their feelings would remain, connecting them by an impenetrable heartstring.


End file.
